Lion, here's a quote for you that I think you'll like knowing you have your site for people to communicate about paranoid schizophrenia.

God does not comfort us to make us comfortable, but to make us comforters.
Dr. Jowett

Do you like that?

When I have lost loved ones, it seemed that the loss of the grief was just another loss. And it hurt almost as much as the loss of the loved one.
When I had to give up the grief, the loss was complicated by guilt. It felt as if I was leaving them.
Everthing about losing someone you love is hard and you never stop loving even when the grief ends. You never stop missing anyone you love.
smile

[ July 29, 2004, 10:49 PM: Message edited by: smilinize ]

God does not comfort us to make us comfortable, but to make us comforters

Dotsie -- its funny you should post that today -- as I was wondering this morning if God had put me thru all this (loss of a husband and a son) in order to help my husband thru the grief in his life -- his mom/dad/brother/sister/son --

and smilin' - that is my hubby's biggest fear/guilt -- that by allowing grief to take its course he will "forget" robert somehow -- sometimes he feels he has to keep his pain "alive" in order to honor his child --

which brings me back to Dotsie's post of my choosing to use Gods comfort as a comforter for him --

Carolyn, How I wish everyone had something as tangible to grab onto. My friends just lost their 15 year old son to leukemia and the mom asked me if it was "crazy" that she'd lay down on his bed and put her face on his blanket so that she could smell him. I assured her that she wasn't crazy. After 5 years I still go into my parents room, open the closet and try to catch the scent of my father. You are a courageous woman to share you deepest hurts with the rest of us. We've all benefited in some way from your generosity. Hugs and more hugs!!!!Kath

Kathryn --

I think what she's doing is perfectly normal also.

You can give your friend my website and then tell her to email me if she needs to talk if you'd like. Maybe she can relate to some of the poetry and want to share.

My heart goes out to her -------

I have lost my mother and my husband in the past six years and both losses bear heavily on me. I have had to move in with my father because he is battling esophogeal cancer. When we were moving from my home to his, I ran across so much stuff that belonged to my husband and each item brought back a flood of memories. As I am settling things here at this house, making one home from two, I am organizing things that belonged to my husband and my mother. Last night, however, I experienced a new thing...I am already starting to "mourn" my father...who is still here and fighting his disease. Anyway, Mom always bought Dad Paul Sebastian after-shave and she always wore Estee Lauder Youth Dew. Dad wore his after-shave when he was going out somewhere nice, but not all the time. Since he has this darned j-tube amd after his surgery and chemo/radiation therapy, he thinks he has an "odor" all the time and has started to wear the after-shave more. He was out of the house with my uncle for the day on Saturday and I was doing some consolidating of things and had to go into his closet. I was hit with a wave of Paul Sebastian and Estee Lauder in the face... a very pleasant smell, but boy did it hit me in the gut. I grabbed the clothing and inhaled, thinking about how much I miss Mom already and what I will ever do without Dad. I am living here in their house again, just as when I was a child and young woman. I have always been close to them both, but now I am his caregiver and I watching him lose his identity as my strong-willed, independent father. He is becoming ever more dependent, depressed and physically weak. I remembered my mother and how I miss her daily, still trying to call her when things happened to me until I moved here and am faced daily with the fact that she is not in this house any longer physically. I have my husbands' ashes here in a wooden box and I find myself opening it and touching the artifacts that could not be cremated with him (The funeral home placed them in the container with the ashes for us.) and remembering, remembering, remembering. Life is so unfair....I would have never imagined that I would be a widow at 51 and lose my mother even before that, never have children in my lifetime and now am facing losing my father so soon. (I know this is a pity-party post, and I apologize. Yesterday was my 56th birthday and I am just a bit down, but not out, I promise.)

Anyway, I was writing this in response to the post about Rob's hair. One of the things I found while catagorizing what was staying and what was going was a container with Tim's first lock of baby hair, a diaper pin, his hospital bracelet and a Saint Christophers' medal in it. I have put them in the cremation box with the other things and his ashes. Those things are over 50 years old yet still smelled and felt like they were from today. I am amazed at the fact that I had not known they were even ever there. I think my MIL (She died several years before my mother.) sent them to me to make my move and my life a little brighter.

I am not a maudlin person and I do believe in life after this one. I know in my heart Mom and Tim are in that other plane with all the others we have lost, and that they will welcome Dad there when it is his time. It just doesn't make it any easier to bear in my life. I miss them both greatly, and as I said above, am already missing Dad, even though he is still here. What a conundrum.....

Micki

Micki,
I left this post alone all day so that everyone could have the chance to read it AND see that is was posted by you. It was heart wrenching to read, yet so full of love. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your insight about life, about dying, and mostly about love. You are one brave woman and I am so glad I know you.

Sendng love,

JJ

Micki,
I am sorry for your heartache. And, I am sorry for your father's illness. When my mother's Alzheimers accelerated I grieved the loss of our closeness even though she lived with me. I can identify with your grieving for your father even though he is still alive. Isn't it strange what jolts us? I remember years ago when my brother, Danny, died that the smell of homemade spaghetti sauce made me miss him...he loved to make "sugu" (our family's word for spaghetti sauce). A smell, a thought, a breeze, a visual experience, a touch, grief just comes pouring back in. Yesterday I was cleaning and came across the nightgown my mother was wearing when she passed away. Pulled me up short. I think that I am going to have to pack up everything that reminds me of her until a later time when it won't knock me for a loop as easily as it does now.
God bless you, Micki.

The scent of Old Spice will always remind me of Dad. He wore it every day, even in the hospital.

Micki, I spent the night at my sister's last week and on her dresser was a dish that always sat on Mom and Dad's dresser while we were growing up. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I instantly went back to their bedroom and recalled lifting the lid and seeing her scapula and other little medals on pins inside. I wanted to hear her voice, see her, and touch her again. As usual, I quickly pushed the thoughts out of my mind.

I'm sorry for your heartache. I know you and am well aware of your losses and caring for your dad. You are anything but maudlin. In fact when I think of you I hear your laugh. It's contagious. I also admire your loving, caring ways.

Remember to take some time for yourself. You and your dad remian in my prayers.